Following Fate’s Kiss

By: Rebecca Anne “Sinead” Fahey-Leigh

Chapter Six:

When Things Fall Apart before the Storm

            “It’s cold, I’m wet, I’m tired, and why are we down here again?”

            “Qyriian, please. You know that those ambassadors want to fill our time with worthless quarrels that have been resolved long ago. Six weeks of listening to worthless jabber makes anything else look so much more interesting.”

            “Yes, yes, I know that, but please, Harmony, why do we have to be exploring these caves? Both of us know that there’s nothing here of use.”

            I sighed, then stopped to look at my husband. “Because something’s telling me that there is something down here. Something that everyone else wants to overlook, or has overlooked in the millennia since . . . well . . .” I found a suitable rock, and sat, letting my thoughts straighten themselves out of the tangled mess they had just run into. “Okay. Remember what Christie said on our marriage night? Morning, actually.”

            “Uh . . . not really. I was distracted.”

            “No doubt you were.”

            Qyriian chuckled, then moved to sit beside me, resting his right wing behind my shoulders. “Please go on.”

            “Well, I was thinking about how she said something about the ‘Great Landing from Earth.’ Something about that is really bugging me, like there’s something that I’ve overlooked. There has to be.”

            He nodded. “So you think that the answer to that something, or that something itself, is here in the caves.”

            “This is where the Dragons originated. yet they moved away from here, migrated, to where they now lay their eggs beneath Great Blue, that huge mountain. And this place is where Gyrkin have come from as well. But there’s something missing.”

            “How we got here.”

            “Exactly. And where we came from. Both your kind and mine.”

            “Earth, was it?”

            “For me, yes. You? I . . . I have my doubts, husband.”

            He nodded, then looked around the cave we were in. “And this is one of many small caves.” Sighing, he replied, “You know that we have that ball to attend.”

            “Yeah,” I grumbled. “And to hear those other countries complain about how we should have elected a leader all these years instead of having to wait seven generations before the heir showed up outta nowhere.”

            He smiled and kissed me lightly. “I know, I know. But remember something: they don’t like Gyrkin much. The country to the south slays us on sight.”

            “Yes, I’ll have to talk about that with them.”

            “It doesn’t help much that we still haven’t gotten through to my people,” Qyriian said, sighing, helping me stand.

            “I know, love.”

            “What time can we suitably leave the ball?”

            “Not very early. But if you remember tomorrow’s schedule? Nothing until noon. And our door can lock very easily.”

            He chuckled and swung me around in an embrace, kissing me heartily. “My wife, my queen, you are devious at times.”

            “Just at times?”

            “Mm-hm.”

            We left the caves, bantering as usual, holding hands. Mira and Naiiq joined us, entering into the bantering as soon as they caught the gist of what we were squabbling playfully about. And that’s when we almost literally bumped into the leader of the southern country and his wife. They sniffed disdainfully at myself and my own husband. “What . . . may I politely ask, what is that smell?”

            I smiled, replying, “Qyriian and I were making sure that the lower caverns had not been too badly eroded by the years of disuse. I don’t want this place to fall in the middle of the night.”

            “It has stood for millennia, and it will continue to stand for another millennia,” the wife said, covering her nose with a perfumed, lacy tissue. “And why not send someone else to do that for you?”

            Qyriian was fighting for patience. After a silent moment, he won, and replied, “Because, Lord Tranno and Lady Milan, we live here. The Dragons are living here. I do not want my wife hurt, nor those who protect us. That is why we prefer to inspect everything personally.”

            “Even to where the Dragons are stored?” Lord Tranno said incredulously

            Mira snorted in a definite un-ladylike way. “‘Stored’? I demand an apology. They live with us. They are not ‘stored.’” She turned to me, features dark with indignant anger. “Riian–”

            “Demanding an apology and talking respectfully with your leader are two unacceptable things from a mere soldier!” Lord Tranno roared. “She demands an apology!”

            “Do not tell my people what they are or are not to do!” I bellowed in return. “Mira is Silver’s Rider! She is the second of the protective Triumvirate! She is not under your jurisdiction, nor are any of my people! And you will apologize to her about the word usage concerning the Dragons! And to Naiiq, Rider of Bronze! Immediately!”

            Lady Milan blinked, jaw hanging at my outburst as her husband stuttered an apology quietly. I calmed myself down as Mira snarled her acceptance. Before the Lord and Lady could leave, I held my hand up. “And I apologize to you for losing my temper. Please remember to attend tonight’s event. Many things need to be discussed between us.”

            They nodded and left. I pointed to the nearest room, and Mira, seeing my anger, meekly entered it as Qyriian and Naiiq entered after us. My voice was soft. “You shouldn’t have exploded like that, Allay.”

            “I know, and I’m sorry, Harmony. But I can’t allow people to disregard our Dragons as some kind of thing that has barely more use than a pet!”

            “But what use is that?” Qyriian replied mournfully. “That is what I’m hearing from a lot of Riders. ‘Why are we drilling like this? What will this be used for? What is our purpose?’ There are a lot of questions, Mira, and not enough answers.”

            She nodded. I looked at Naiiq, who was oddly silent. “Is there something you’d like to say, Grasp?”

            “No, Riian. I’m just sorry that I didn’t speak out when I should have.”

            “Which was when?” I asked.

            “When Allay yelled. I should have supported her, as would be due from her betrothed and of her Rider-Mate.”

            I smiled, then looked at Mira. “You didn’t tell me you two were going to get married.”

            “I . . . was going to, but those two little snots just burst in on us.”

            I laughed and embraced both. “All right. All’s forgiven. And we should get moving so that we’re all presentable for tonight’s ball-thing.”

            “You really are meant to be a queen,” Naiiq said, laughing and shaking his head.

            A faerie zipped into the room. I recognized the white-haired Sara, who flew directly over to my face and said in her strong voice, “You know that was a stupid stunt.”

            “Yes, Sara, I know.”

            “And?”

            “I won’t do it again. My temper got the better of me! You know how I feel towards the Dragons and how they’re supposed to be treated like!”

            “With respect! But you have to remember that you have to do things in delicate ways with foreign nobles. They’re like a high-strung running dog that has been the result of being bred too closely!” She folded her arms across her chest. “So? What do you have to do next?”

            “See what Tess has in mind for tonight’s event,” I replied. “And make myself smell nicer than I do now.”

            “Make sure your husband does the same. I have to talk with a Gyrkin now. He’s not too happy about some sleeping arrangements.”

            “Please send him my regards.”

            “Yeah, will do.” Sara left in a flurry, mind already set on the little things that had to be done for the preparation of the ball.

            I sighed. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

            “Or me!” Christie said, holding her hand up. She had entered with Sara “I have a snack waiting for you when you get back, so don’t wait too long!” She started to leave, but spun and returned. “And Tess and Courtney are waiting for you there. Courtney set up the bath, and she wants to know if you needed anything done for tonight when you return.”

            “Thank you, Christie,” Qyriian said, chuckling and smiling. “Maybe you could have something chilled to drink later on tonight when we return waiting for us?”

            “That’s it?” she asked, clearly not believing him. “Are you serious? I mean, you’re not going to ask for anything else?”

            “But . . .”

            “No! I’m going to have food ready for you! Seriously! I’m here purely for your gastric needs! And I’m gonna do what I do best! And that’s feed you! Agh! Humans!”

            She sped off again, leaving Qyriian rubbing at his neck and the rest of us kindly hiding our amusement. After a moment, though, we set back on our way. The two DragonRiders had gone off to get ready in their own quarters, and we went in to see Tess still bustling around the clothing upon two hand-crafted manikins that were carved to just my and my husband’s size. When we entered, she turned and looked at us. “Oh . . . uh . . .”

            I held my had up. “Tess, take your time. We still have to get cleaned up.”

            “But for the color . . . is . . . will that be fine?”

            I walked over, careful not to touch the fabric of the dress with my dirtied hands. It was white, with a thin red border around the edges. Perfectly centered in the border was a minute braid of the three precious metals. Seed pearls were placed irregularly around the braid, with one slightly larger one that would rest just upon the wrist. Around the neckline was the same border and seed pearls, with one larger one that rested at the middle.

            Looking to Qyriian’s, I saw that it was of the same design, only with a navy blue border instead of the crimson. And then I heard Tess’s squeak. “The borders are the wrong color! Oh, oh, hold on a moment . . .”

            I stepped back, saying, “You don’t have to change them, you know . . .”

            “Forgive me, milady, but I do. The queen wears blue, the king wears red,” she explained, calling a few of her people over to help change the colors. One touch from each upon the color, and the fabric swiftly changed from crimson to navy blue, and vise-versa on the other outfit. She sat upon the shoulder of my dress, dismissing the others politely. “See, the queen takes care of the things that are within the realm, and the peaceful pastimes and faires and all of that. And the king takes charge of the warfare and of other such bloody things.”

            “That’s it,” Qyriian asked.

            “Generally, yes.”

            I smiled. “I’m glad that I like the color blue, then.”

            “And it suits you.”

            Laughing, I nodded, then looked again at the outfits. The design of my dress was of a wide neck and sleeves that belled out and lengthened from the elbow. The bodice would fit perfectly, holding to the curves that I already sported and showing them off slightly, without really giving away anything that should be left to the imagination. The skirt of the dress went to the floor, and I could tell that it belled out perfectly, flowing wonderfully when I moved.

            Qyriian’s outfit consisted of the same white material. The borders were wider, as was the braid. There were no pearls, but one clearstone that rested on the middle of the neckline. The sleeves were loose, but would be tucked inside a crimson cuff that would go from his wrist to nearly to his elbow. The metal braiding wove itself up and around the cuff elaborately. A crimson belt would be worn loosely around his middle, breaking up the monotony of white. His breeches would act in the same way as his sleeves would, only they would be carefully tucked into his boots, which were white doeskin with crimson trimmings.

            Just as I was turning to see the footwear I would be wearing, I saw what can only be described as a small legion of blue-haired pixies carry in the belt that I would be wearing. It joined at the front with a long tail that would reach to the floor. It was in the same dark blue that the trimmings were in. Sighing, smiling, I walked into the bathing room, saying over my shoulder, “Thank you, Tess, everyone. Those look simply wonderful.”

            Qyriian was already unbuckling the belt that ran around his tunic, holding it together. That sent all but Tess skimming back into the room that they worked out of, giggling and blushing. Tess merely hid her smile behind her hand and said, “You’re welcome, milady. I’ll be in to help you dress as soon as you’re ready.”

            She glided softly over through the curtained-off door that rested a little under a half t’row off of the floor, and was one-tenth of a t’row tall. I turned back towards the door that lead into the room where a large tub was waiting, and encountered a scowling Courtney. “Uh . . .”

            “Yes, ‘uh’ might be the right word. You don’t have enough time left to soak properly!”

            “I’m sorry, Courtney. Some things came up.”

            “All right, all right, but hurry. Make certain that you don’t smell the same that you do now.”

            Laughing, I passed her by, glad that there were still some around who were more than willing to talk to me bluntly. I turned to see Qyriian already without his shirt, and in the process of removing his boots. With a sigh, he finally freed himself of them. “I can’t wait until tonight’s over.”

            “Me too,” I groaned, pressing my hands against a strangely aching back. I hadn’t done anything that would end up straining it.

            Blinking, I realized something else.

            Nah. Couldn’t be. My cycle wasn’t regular yet.

            “Uh-oh.”

            “What ‘uh-oh’?” Qyriian asked, pulling the breeches on easily, watching me.

            “‘Uh-oh,’ I can’t close the back of this dress ‘uh-oh.’”

            “Uh-oh.”

            Tess obviously heard that, and came out in a flash of blue hair and silvery feather-like clothing. “It doesn’t fit you? But that . . . wait here.”

            She zipped out again, leaving us hanging. I turned to look at my husband, who was starting to pale under his tan. He swallowed and pulled his tunic over his head. Just as he was about to speak, a knock sounded upon the door. Tess came back over to us. “I got Ariin-Kariih-Begha.”

            I walked behind a screen. “Enter.”

            “Heard you had fitting problems,” she said, walking around the screen. It was the same girl who was the full Kalith with the black eyes and hair that had helped me carry Naiiq to Bronze.

            “What do I do,” I said slowly.

            “Get that dress off so I can give you a once-over, that’s what.” While I was doing that, glad of the under-clothing that let me keep some of my dignity, she asked, “When’s the last time you had a health-check?”

            “A year ago.”

            “A full health-check?”

            “Just over a half-year ago.”

            “Okay . . . so they checked everything? Please sit.”

            “Yes,” I said slowly, willing my patience to remain steady as I did as she asked, sitting upon the small couch.

            “Ease off on the temper, will you? I’m only trying to help.”

            “I know; I’m sorry,” I replied, pressing my hands to my face, feeling her hands rest upon my stomach, probing lightly to see where the swelling was.

            Frowning slightly, she looked around the screen. “Mind leaving us girls for a moment? And could you please ask the people who are coordinating the event that it will start two candlemarks later than first thought?”

            “Why?” he asked warily.

            “Because. Your wife needs that dress re-fitted.”

            I heard him leave with a sigh. She turned. “Please, before trying to remember my name, just call me Kariih. And could you lie on your back?”

            “You’re . . .”

            “Yes. Please, I need to check,” she said, face calm. Sighing, I lay back and closed my eyes, resting my arm over my eyes, suddenly tired. Her warm hands drifted over my stomach once again, soft and easily checking each and every muscle. Her voice was comforting as well. “You’ve got good musculature here, so I don’t think that you over-did a workout. And I don’t think that it could be something too serious. You might have eaten something that you’re having a slight allergic reaction to.”

            “Is that it?” I asked when her hands left my abdomen.

            “Sorry, but no.”

            “What else?”

            She told me. I groaned and replied, “That’s why you wanted my husband out of the room.”

            “That’s right.”

            “All right.”

            After what seemed to be a long inspection, she said softly, “Okay. Done.”

            I slipped back into the dress, and then heard the door open and close again. I followed Kariih around the screen. Qyriian walked over to me, smiling gently and brushing my cheek once with his fingers before resting his arm around my shoulders, helping keep the dress up. “So?”

            “I have good news and bad news.”

            “Bad news?” he asked guardedly.

            “That mannikin will be useless for a while.”

            “Really,” he replied. “And why would that be?”

            “The reason is also the good news. In nine months, almost exactly, you’ll be a father.”

            We stared at her. She smiled. “Congratulations. You’ll have your heir soon.”

            “Oh . . . oh my . . .” I heard my husband whisper. He swallowed a few times before asking timidly, “Are you sure?”

            “I had you leave the room so I could double-check,” Kariih replied calmly. “Simply because that’s something that a woman should deal with without her husband pacing behind a screen.”

            “Oh. Ah.”

            She started to leave the room, when she stopped and turned. “So . . . what was tonight’s event supposed to be in celebration for?”

            I blinked, clearing my head slightly. “Uh . . . a treaty with North, redefining the border that we share with them.”

            “Well, I have the feeling that another reason to celebrate will be declared. I’ll say nothing until the–” She opened the door, and stopped speaking. “Oh. Fyrin, Mira, Naiiq. What are you three doing here?”

            “When one of the pureblood Kalith DragonRiders is brought to the royal chamber in a hurry, obviously worry spreads. Then, when the king comes to me and tells me that the banquet is delayed by two candlemarks, and yet won’t give a direct reason . . . some things just scream ‘conspiracy,’” Fyrin replied, walking in and looking at me. The other two walked in as well, making sure that Kariih would wait with them. Fyrin locked her eyes upon me. “So?”

            “Ask . . . ask Kariih,” I replied breathlessly. “I’m . . . whoooh . . . I’m no good for the moment. I can hardly think straight.”

            Fyrin turned upon Kariih swiftly. “Speak, rider of First Black-Purple.”

            “My lady and queen is one month pregnant, almost to the day.”

            Mira and Naiiq laughed outright, while Fyrin blankly stared at me, then glared at Qyriian. “Right when she’s needed the most . . . you go and knock her up with a kid. Great.”

            “By Ice Eyes, how do you think I feel?!” he all-but-roared in return. Sighing, he mumbled, “She’ll have an excuse from here on in . . .”

            Naiiq dissolved into the manly version of a serious case of the giggles, which set me off into laughter, reaching up to pull Qyriian’s face down into a kiss, regardless of my dress and of who was in the room with us. He rested his forehead against mine, sighing, smiling happily, watching my eyes softly. “No wonder why I thought you looked even more stunning than your usual level of sheerly beautiful recently. You’re glowing with the child within you.”

            I smiled up at him, then rubbed my nose against his once and turned to look at my DragonLeaders. “If you three would return in an hour to escort us?”

            “And what about me?” Kariih asked, hands on hips.

            I smiled. “You are going to be attending tonight’s banquet already, are you not?”

            “No, actually, I wasn’t planning on it,” she replied. “A Dragon is due for laying soon.”

            “Well, then you do what you plan is best. Is your second attending, then?”

            “Yes. Since all those who ride a Black is a Kalith, all you have to do is send him a look that says, ‘Help, I’m sick,’ and he’ll get you what you need.”

            “Thank you.”

            She bowed and left with the other three, with Naiiq still laughing. Tess came back out, and smiled at me. “So the Pinks will soon be able to watch over a Heir! Wonderful!”

            I laughed. “Yes, they will. Now . . . could you help with this?”

            Soon five faeries were hovering around the back, changing the fabric, closing it around me and shaping it so that it rested around me in a comfortable fashion. I lowered my gaze, letting it rest upon my slightly-larger abdomen. Two male hands rested upon it, and I looked up at Qyriian, feeling the small magic of the fabric-workers tickling my skin as they finished. His hands slid to rest upon my hips, and he whispered, “I thought . . . that things would end up . . .”

            “Taking more time,” I finished. “I know. I never expected that I would end up being . . . well, pregnant this early in life.”

            “You are ready, though,” he whispered. “And I think that I am as well. I hope that I am, at least.”

            “We have nine months to get ready for it.” I smiled up at his face, feeling his hands pull me closer, so that I could rest against him, my arms tucked in between our chests.

            “I know.”

            Mira’s voice was on the other side of the door. “Hey, you two need help with your hair or what?”

            “I’m letting my stay free,” Qyriian replied.

            “Can I get away with it as well?” I asked.

            “Sure. You are the queen. But you know how those inbred nobles like to match their wardrobe and styles that  queen or nobility of the country they’re visiting are wearing at the time. They’re trying to get their maids to do their hair in the faerie-style that we have.”

            “So the results are disastrous.”

            “Exactly. You’ll see tonight.”

            Tess and her crew brought the belt over, fastening it around me and causing the fabric to shape itself so that it emphasized the way that my stomach was starting to reshape itself. I smiled at how they made it seem as if I was slightly further along than what was first thought. I reached down and Tess sat upon my hand. I pulled her up. “You, my dear friend, have some wardrobe designing to do, if you aren’t too busy.”

            She snorted amicably. “What do you think I was doing these past seven generations? Sitting and doing nothing? I have all the wardrobe ideas you can want, and I’ll show them to you tomorrow over dinner.”

            “Problem!” Sara said, zipping in and hovering before me. “Those foreigners are glad about the two-mark delay, and they took the excuse that it was a wardrobe disaster upon your behalf, however, the fact remains that they are curious if that is the real reason why you’re delaying it by that long. That, and they’re getting edgy. And I don’t even . . . know . . . uh . . . wait. Are you pregnant, by any chance? Or have you just simply gained weight?”

            “Yes, I’m expecting a child,” I replied, laughing. “So when would it be wise for me to look over the maternity wardrobe?”

            “Actually,” Tess replied, “anything we make can be shaped to how you are shaped. So it’s basically seeing what you do and don’t like. And remember that the queen sets the style?”

            “Oh, great,” I hissed, sighing. “All right. Sara?”

            “Luncheon and dinner tomorrow are with two separate leaders. Luncheon is with the South, Dinner with the island nation called Calibre.”

            “I’ll need a refreshment on my history about Calibre between the two, then. And I have many things that I’ll have to clear up with South,” Qyriian growled. “Killing even peaceful Gyrkin without even asking. They’re worse than the Xaqtha on the battlefield.”

            We were at the large open, outdoor dining hall that was to the north of the Awakening Mountain, four candlemarks before the sun would set. The man announcing us stared at me. “Are you certain?!”

            “Yes, and I have a Kalith’s word on it. Now will you just say the announcement already?” I hissed from behind the curtain that hung over the door.

            Qyriian’s wings ruffled nervously. “I wish I could just pick you up and fly off right now, you know that?”

            “Yes, love, I know,” I replied softly. “I wish the same.”

            “Then why not?” he asked plaintively.

            “Protocol and the fact that we have to do this sooner or later.”

            He sighed, kissing my forehead. “All right, then.”

            The announcer walked out onto the place where he could be heard over the dull roar of the nobility and royals within. “I wish to announce the Queen Harmony and the King Qyriian, along with their three DragonLeaders, Fyrin, Mira, and Naiiq.” We stepped out between the curtains, smiling to the polite applause. I nodded ever-so-slightly to the announcer who then said at my signal, “I have also been asked to announce that there is another reason for this magnificent banquet tonight. As you all know, this is to jointly celebrate the treaties with the nation of Northbound with my home nation of Mavrik as well as the fifty-seventh birthday of the visiting king of Northbound, King Vikthan the Third. May I now profess the third reason for this wonderful feast of food from all nations attending. It has just been told and proven that the Queen Harmony Riian and her good husband King Qyriian Hrutan will be having their first child in nine months.”

            The hall broke out into wild cheering and praise. I saw the Kalith DragonRider Second, who would be sitting where he would be able to see my face at all times. He nodded to me. I looked around, seeing that the only two who weren’t celebrating that fact were the Southtrail royalty. Gradually, the cheering died down, and I was able to say, “Thank you for being so patient with us in this last hour. To forestall your questions, there was indeed a wardrobe disaster. The dress didn’t fit me.”

            Kind chuckles from the ladies who had been through what I have assured me that I was saying the right things. Understanding smiles from the menfolk towards Qyriian also reassured him, I could tell. So I continued, “But thanks to those who have made these beautiful clothing, they were able to make it fit me in such a way that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve simply bloated without reason.” Laughter at reddening husbands, who were also laughing at follies that had been said meant that it was another wise line. “Now, please, excuse my long-windedness. The food is waiting to be eaten, and I, for one, am famished.”

            A cheer from the younger men caused me to smile and I walked down the seven steps and to my place, my hand resting within the crook of Qyriian’s elbow. He pulled the seat out for me, glaring off the servant who usually would do that. The one who was about to pull out Qyriian’s own seat backed off wisely, allowing him to sit on his own, arranging his wings comfortably before slightly angling his chair towards mine, just so that he’d be able to see me whenever he wanted to glance up. Mother and Father were sitting to my left, and both congratulated me quietly, wanting to talk to us privately after the banquet and discussions were done.

            Once he was settled, that was when the grumble was heard, obviously said too loud and apparently from an argument with his neighbor.

            “But you know that she’s nothing but a lowborn!”

            Silence.

            I looked up from the plate of leaper meat as well as gravy. “Might I ask what the argument is about? This is a time that we are able to speak about issues and problems, as have the other banquets before this.”

            The man who had said that was Lord Tranno, apparently, as he stood. “Yes, you most certainly will know, Highness!”

            “Careful with your words, man!” someone hissed angrily. “Our Queen has every right to have you and your Lady escorted off of our country’s lands because of your words earlier this day!”

            Lord Tranno of Southtrail glared at that man. “Hold your tongue! I am speaking.”

            I arose quickly. “Lord Tranno! We have had words about how you will address my people! Those who wear the badge of a Dragon will have your respect, or so help me, I’ll have you lead from my borders on a leash and muzzled! Do you understand?!”

            “Yes, Queen,” he growled.

            “Good,” I replied, sitting again. “Now what is your issue?!”

            “You,” he hissed. “You and your upstart ways. You were born of a commoner!”

            “That is incorrect.” My mother stood, shoulders squared, eyes glittering. “My daughter was born in a noble house, and is of royal, noble blood that had been recluse for seven generations.”

            “And why would that be?” he hissed.

            “Because our ancestor had been born out of wedlock to a Xaqtha and a Higher-Form Gyrkin. That Xaqth woman was the acknowledged daughter of the king of that time. Thus she has the required Gyrkin blood in her, to complete the five ancestries.”

            “Fine.” He stopped, as if remembering a point. “But her father didn’t have the Kalitha Clan blood in her. He was fullblood Harutha. I have records of that.”

            I indicated Trustworth, saying, “He is my biological father. Not Jest.”

            “That means that you were born illegitimately.”

            I snorted. “My bloodline is what it is. I have the five heritages. My reign here has been foretold. If there is one that is more legitimate than I am, here, at this time, let them step forward.”

            There was no movements.

            Tranno’s hiss of breath indicated that he was not done. “Fine. I will take that part of the conversation as null. But yet you married a monster.”

            I groaned. “You have no idea what kind of trouble those words just got you into. Qyriian’s people do not have the greatest of temperaments, nor have they yielded yet. There will be a day when Gyrkin return to their peaceful ways. And I will personally see to bring that day around. True, I have killed or been a part of killing four Gyrkin. And I regret it. A bloodlust rests over them. A bloodlust that goes beyond what we humans see. And I’m slowly learning how that bloodlust is working though talking with my husband. And I am seeing that there are ways to turn that lust.” I sighed, and heard the announcer clear his throat. I looked to him, letting a calm mask drift over my face. “Yes?”

            “Please forgive me, however, your last guests have arrived. They are the Laird Ariintan Hevagh, and his Lady Jaghraiih Iantan.”

            The two Gyrkin walked in stately. Ariintan looked directly at Qyriian, who inclined his head, standing to walk over to the leaders of his people. He stopped, and I stood to walk over with him to them. “It is an honor and a privilege that I am able to meet you, Laird Ariintan and Lady Jaghraiih.”

            The silvery female Gyrkin laughed musically. “Aye, an’ ’tis an honor upon my behalf that I am able t’ meet you, Queen Harmony o’ th’ Academy.” Her voice dulled slightly in sorrow, and she looked between myself and Qyriian. “I’m sorry tha’ Varthin turned as he did. ’Tisn’t Gyrkin way to overprotect th’ cubs when they’re old enough t’ fly off an’ choose their mate.”

            Laird Ariintan’s eyes caught mine. They were as mahogany brown as his rich fur. His face was warm, and his voice deep. “Thee art a lucky woman, Riian, t’ have caught this young’un. C’ngrat’lations on yeh’r weddin’ an’ yeh’r child, when th’ babe comes.”

            “Please,” Qyriian said, indicating the empty spaces to his right. “If you would sit next to us?”

            “Honored, lad. Thank ye.”

            We led them around the table to where they were to be seated to Qyriian’s right. Once they were comfortable at their place of honor, I looked at Lord Tranno. “Now. Where were we . . . right. Now that we have our two Gyrkin representatives attending, we can make this conversation completely legitimate.”

            His growl of irritation reached my ears. His voice wasn’t much better. “Gyrkin have been wandering across my borders for eons. We have been doing right in protecting our daughters by making sure that all Gyrkin threats have been neutralized.”

            “A fancy way o’ sayin’ tha’ ye’ve been killin’ m’ kin,” Lord Ariintan replied, kindly waving off a plate offered by a servant. “An’ I’ve been meanin’ to talk to ye ’bout that. So? Have ye seen their eyes? D’ye know f’r a fact tha’ they were lustin’ fer blood?”

            “Why should looking at their eyes matter, Gyrkin?” Tranno replied insolently.

            “Lookit me eyes. The color.”

            “Brown.”

            “An’ th’ eyes of a bloodlustin’ Gyrkin are th’ exact color o’ blood. They act differently when upon a raid. They canna help themselves, Tranno. This be th’ issue. Gyrkin ’re misunderstood.”

            “Right,” Tranno snapped. “And I can fly.”

            “Oh, ye rightly will iff’n ye keep this temper up,” Lady Jaghraiih replied tartly. “’Cause one o’ our kin’ll be droppin’ ye offa th’ face o’ this earth. Now talk evenly or we’ll not list’n. Now. Have ye or haven’t ye looked at th’ eyes o’ the Gyrkin that wander over the borders?”

            His voice was slightly meek. “No.”

            “Did ye know ’bout th’ eye-color?”

            “No.”

            “But summa ye’r people must. Those who live upon th’ borderlan’s.”

            “Most. Likely.”

            “Then ’tis our turn t’ form a treaty wi’ you,” Lord Ariintan said evenly. “Me kin is a nation within this country tha’ Queen Harmony is regent o’er. Gyrkin answer t’ me, but they will allus answer t’ her afore me. She is their leader . . . our leader. She ’as Gyrkin blood in ’er. The Dragons smell that. They know her t’ be what she really is. So what she says, goes. However. At th’ moment, they still listen t’ me alone. Which is a problem that will be fixed soon ’nuff.”

            “Your point?”

            Sighing, the Gyrkin leader tried to hold his patience. His wife rested her paw upon his hand, lending him her calm strength. He looked at her softly, then turned to face Tranno again. “Me point is that’ I will make sure tha’ no Gyrkin on a bloodrage ’ll wander o’er yeh’r borders. Ye unnerstan’? Tha’ means tha’ ye’ll ’ave visitors, but only t’ places that they ’ave been welcomed to before. An’ there are indeed villages within yeh’r bounds tha’ welcome me kin.”

            “It’s outlawed to harbor a Gyrkin in my lands.”

            “’Arbor, aye. But befriend a peaceful wanderer?”

            “I can outlaw that as well.”

            “Euah, man . . . Ye ain’t makin’ this easy fer either o’ us,” Lady Jaghraiih said. “Ye have a parliament, a congress tha’ helps ye pass yeh’r laws, aye?”

            “How would you know that?!” He screeched. “You’re nothing but an animal!”

            I stood, forestalling the Gyrkin leaders from doing so. “You are requested to leave. You and your lady both. I am doing this in the best efforts to keep peace. You will have a guard to escort you back to your own border.”

            “This is sheer lunacy!” Tranno replied. “You have beasts eating at a respectable feast–”

            “I dinnae agree wi’ ye on tha’,” Ariintan said patiently. “I refused food s’ tha’ me Queen an’ King’s guests wouldna ’ave t’ watch. We are mindful o’ those who aren’t used t’ our eatin’ habits.”

            “Then why kill and eat virgins?! We’re certainly not used to that!”

            Rearing up on his hind legs, the Gyrkin roared, “When was th’ last proven time ye had a virgin o’ yeh’r country eaten?!” Falling to all fours again, he glared at the man, eyes glimmering angrily, flecks of red mixing with the mahogany.

            Tranno was silent.

            His Lady stood and glared at her husband. Her voice was calm as she addressed the Gyrkin. “Over seventy years ago.”

            “The Gyrkin Rebellion of seventy-seven years ago,” Qyriian said in the silence that followed. “There were too many of us in these areas. One of my grandparents was a part of it. He was caught up in the bloodlust.”

            “And I suppose that you’ve been though the lust yourself?” Tranno hissed.

            I sat, seeing Qyriian nod. “Recently. I killed another Gyrkin, which is generally unheard of. But I was killing to save Harmony, who was my fiancé at that time, and is now my wife. That justified my actions.” He rubbed at his face, upsetting the circlet that rested over his brow. Taking it off and looking at the metal that made it up, he said, “And I never want to be that filled with rage again. I nearly . . . I nearly violated the one beauty that keeps me sane in the most horrible of situations. I saw Khranak Hgathin wearing my wife down. He didn’t want to kill her, deep within him. He knew that she was promised to someone, making her . . . making her unacceptable to take by Gyrkin law.” He sighed deeply. “Three times, she nearly broke the lust in him for her blood. Three. But it wasn’t enough. He ended up nearly taking her, and when I saw her trip and fall, then be pinned by Khranak . . . my instincts screamed for me to kill him . . . to make him pay for even touching that which was mine.” He looked up at Tranno. “We are indeed the Dragons’ kin. If you have ever seen a Dragon lose their Rider in battle . . . or have even heard of it, then you will know the ferocity that tells us to protect that which is ours.”

            “How did you break that bloodlust?” Lady Milan asked, holding her husband’s tunic sleeve firmly, preventing him from leaving in a huff.

            Qyriian’s eyes found mine. I smiled kindly, reaching out to touch his cheek tenderly. “Lady Milan, it was because I was bleeding.” I turned to look at her. “I sport scars on my leg and on my shoulder and chest from that night. I was bleeding heavily, and could hardly move, let alone speak. Qyriian walked over to me, and . . . and he would have done what all Gyrkin are known to do. But I was able to raise my hand out to him.”

            “And he smelled who you were off of your hand?” Tranno asked, scoffing. “Typical.”

            “No,” Qyriian said, gripping the armrests of his chair fiercely, glaring off into nothingness. “I tasted. I’m Gyrkin. She was a mass of blood. There was no stopping my instincts.”

            “And that is nothing to be ashamed of,” I added softly, making eye-contact with Lady Milan easily. “My husband is Gyrkin first and Higher Form second, all thanks to the love he holds for me.”

            She nodded, understanding. She was Tranno’s complete opposite. No doubt it was an arranged marriage. She would be making sure that what the Gyrkin leaders suggested were accepted. After a small sigh and a bow, she said, “Queen Harmony, if would excuse us from tonight’s dinner, I would be indebted. My husband and I have some issues of the state to discuss.”

            I nodded my assent and the two left the dinner, Lady Milan all but dragging Lord Tranno back up into the mountain that served as the Dragons’ main hatchery during the summer. Once they were safely out of earshot one of the lord muttered, “I’d hate to be that man right now. That woman of his is liable to kill.”

            The Lord of Northbound sighed, standing with his wife. “Upon behalf of my country and my people, I would be honored to receive Gyrkin emissaries of peace.” He paused. “Yet I would like to know what to do when faced with a Gyrkin upon a raid, just in case. Your people apparently do not like the climate around your northern border.”

            “Detain it,” Qyriian replied. “There are ways.” He chuckled. “An’ aye. We prefer a warmer climate, ’though not as warm as more’n halfway through Southtrail.”

            The lord nodded solemnly. “If I may be able to learn those ways of detaining, so that we can reduce casualties upon both sides . . . ?”

            “Aye,” Laird Ariintan said, nodding. “Ye’ll be taught ’em soon. That is another reason why we ’ave come t’ this meetin’ o’ sorts. Now.” He smiled at Qyriian and myself. “Should we start th’ discussions on ’ow thin’s ’re goinna work out for relations between ye an me kin?”

            I looked to Qyriian, who was still fiddling with the circlet. I smiled at him when he looked up at me, placing the metal band upon the table. He nodded, turning to look at his people. “Yes. It’s time that the Gyrkin are brought back into helping this country grow and thrive.”

            “Aye. More’n time.”

            Something was wrong.

            I sat up in bed, looking around me. Nothing. Qyriian was sleeping deeply, breathing heavily and evenly. I leaned over him again, watching his face. The feeling of dread only worsened. I sighed. “Qy. Wake up.”

            His eyes snapped open at the little-used nickname. “What is it.”

            “Something’s not right.”

            He shot out of bed, dressing fluidly in the darkness. I followed his example, glad that I was only one month along in my pregnancy and could still move easily. I looked over at my husband, who was just pulling heavy-duty leather boots on over his stockings. I quickly did the same, and added a dark cloak on over the free-moving midnight-blue version of my old assassination clothing. I strapped weaponry on my arms and into my boots, not making more than a whisper of noise at the movement.

            Once done, feeling comfortable and as if I were back in the days when Hrutan and I first had met, I looked at the door. It was slowly moving open.

            Readying a knife to throw, I waited.

            But I never got farther than that.

            “Riian.”

            My head . . .

            “Riian, love . . .”

            “Hru . . . Hrutan?”

            “Aye. ’Tis me.”

            I opened my eyes, but I couldn’t see for a moment. Then I saw softly glowing eyes. I reached out for them and felt Hrutan’s snout. He sighed into my palm, then picked me up carefully, cradling me in his arms. I sighed. “What happened.”

            “Ye were knocked out. Someone came inta th’ room from th’ window.”

            “You’re back into your Gyr-skin.”

            “Had ta. I couldna fight th’ way I wanted t’ if I was in m’ Higher Form.”

            “Did you berserk?”

            “Aye. Until I saw ye bein’ held wi’ a knife . . .”

            “Where.”

            “They would ’ave killed th’ child.”

            I curled closer into the warm chest. “Where are we?”

            “Northbound. ’Tis cold.”

            “So he was lying.”

            “Aye.”

            I sighed, then moved so that I could kiss the side of my husband’s snout, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m glad that you’re safe.”

            “Aye, love.”

            I saw his wings.

            Mangled, bloody . . .

            And felt his sobs.

            “Qyriian.”

            “I’ll never fly again.”

            I pulled his face towards me. “You will. You have to teach our children to. You’ll fly again. I know you will. You’ll carry me up though the clouds again.”

            He shook his head slowly. “Nay, darlin’. They . . . they broke ’em well. I canna even put ’em back unner th’ second-skin.”

            I sighed, then slid out of his arms and over to his wings. The first bone, also the strongest and most muscled, wasn’t broken. Only the two outer ones on his left, and the three on his right. “Can you move them?”

            “Not without pain, m’love.”

            I felt that they hadn’t taken the pouch that I carried small medicines in. Pulling out everything that I have, I looked at each tube in turn before finally choosing one that needed only a drop at the base of a wound to numb it up. I gently placed one drop upon the base of the nerve path that ran along the wing. Hearing Qyriian’s sigh of relief and seeing the outline of his shoulders relax slightly, I put the pouch away for the moment and turned to look around us.

            A door opened. I shielded my eyes from the sudden light, then looked to see a guard there. He held in one hand a plate of what looked like rations. “Here, Queen. You’re to keep your strength up.”

            “I’m hostage?” I asked.

            He nodded silently. “Being half-Xaqtha doesn’t let me agree with what my leaders are doing. The rest of my unit feel the same.”

            “But you have to follow orders.”

            “Yes, Milady.” He handed me the plate, then motioned off to one side. Two soldiers dragged in a freshly-killed plains leaper, which was the easier of the two varieties to hunt. They left it close to Qyriian, nodding to us before leaving. But two more, from another unit by the color of their sleeve cuffs, dragged in a . . . a silver-haired, winged girl, leaving her on a pile of straw before snorting at me and leaving.

            The guard who was sympathetic with me had changed his look to one of contempt. “You’ll be in here for the rest of your stay here.”

            “What terms am I being kept here on?” I asked.

            “The . . . the destruction of the Gyrkin.”

            I looked down at my food, suddenly not hungry.

            His voice was soft. “But do you honestly think that will be agreed to? DragonRiders will never let that pass.”

            “Aye,” Qyriian replied just as softly. “Get ye goin’. I need to eat.”

            The guard nodded, leaving us. I walked over to the girl they had dragged in, setting my food down to carefully turn her upon her side. She looked up at me with glittering, gem-like ice-blue eyes of a shade I have never seen the like of before. And she sighed, stretching her wings and sitting up, rubbing at her head gently with fingers almost as white as her wings.

            That same part of me that knew when we had entered the Awakening Cavern . . . knew this female.

            This Higher-Form Gyrkin female.

            “Ice Eyes.”

            She smirked, replying in a chuckling voice, “I’m hungry. May I have some of that food, please?”

            Smiling, nodding, I halved the rations and held it out to my ancestor.

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